Each time she met him her eyes grew more kind; more and more she liked the laird.

Something fluttered in her nature; like a bird in a room with many windows and all but one closed, it turned now this way, now that, seeking the open lattice.

There was the lovely world--which way to it?
And the window that in a dream had seemed to her to open was mayhap closed, and another that she had not noted mayhap opening....

But Glenfernie, winged, was in that world, and now all that he desired was that the bright bird should fly to him there.
But until to-day patience and caution and much humility had kept him from direct speech.

He knew that she had not loved, as he had done, at once.